


Hunted

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Irony plays its greatest trump card. (09/06/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

This is what he'll remember. His pulse is racing. He is breathless. And they have only seconds.

The shuttlepod groans, heavy with the looming weight that has locked onto it, and a deep shudder rolls through the vulnerable frame of metal that is the bulkhead. A bag of supplies is clutching the rear bunk for dear life. It loses its battle, guts spilling across the floor.

 

There has been no transmission demanding surrender, no battle cries or weapons fire, and the silence from the Suliban vessel stings the optimism he is known for. His kind understand the intimacy of preservation. They can hear the desperate cries for help of a dying body and are trained to answer. Hearing an empty stream of static from the invading ship, his ears are being assaulted with a different message. These attackers have no plans for preservation. They are hungry for bloodshed.

He thinks they may come for revenge, but their intentions don't really matter anyway. This enemy ship is far too many times their size, and even without the scans to confirm it, he knows that he is outnumbered. They hunt him.

Since the Suliban appeared on sensors minutes ago, he has attempted thirteen hails. Like a hawk diving for a field rodent, they'd swept up alongside the shuttlepod and sent it tumbling through space as the proximity sensors shrieked. He remembers that his companion had barely managed a warning before the pod was launched into a death spiral.

Lieutenant Reed is propped upright in his chair, strangely. The command interface broke his fall when the pod tumbled as they were swooped upon. It also broke his skull, sending him to an oblivious and eternal sleep.

At some time during their many years of powered ground vehicles, he remembers that humans invented seatbelts and airbags, equipment and machinery, designed to anticipate the movement of the human body and minimize impacts. It is a lesson Starfleet engineers shall have to learn again.

Phlox is quite aware of Reed's hero complex. The Enterprise's security officer would have been disgusted with his final enemy. He should have died fighting, but it's easy to think now, with the Suliban sniffing at the door, that Reed is the lucky one. He didn't realize Death was hovering nearby.

There are muffled sounds now coming from the airlock. They are scratching to get in. He stabs at the comm once again and repeats his message.

"Shuttlepod One to Enterprise, this is Doctor Phlox. Please respond."

There is no answer.

Thunderously, something has begun banging against the airlock. The hair on the back of his neck rises.

With their efforts, the shuttlepod rocks like a rag doll. Beside him Lieutenant Reed slides lifeless to the floor. He doesn't need a scanner to tell him the man is dead; he's a doctor, trained to restore life to the living- Not a warrior.

The airlock hisses as it's pulled open, and Phlox turns, heart leaping into his throat. His efficient Denobulan vision see green-scaled fingers reach in.

Clutching the phase pistol, his clammy fingers shake as they spin the settings to kill.

Dark figures scurry in and crawl along the walls and ceiling. Their eyes shine mustard yellow. Limbs flailing, Phlox fumbles the pistol. He scrambles frantically onto the command console and screams.

A moment later he is wrenched hard to the floor. In an instant, he remembers his life and laments for his family, in the way we are all capable of thinking of everything at once. Then he is swarmed.

The good doctor doesn't hear Ensign Sato's answering hail. Too late, her voice echoes tinny in the still shuttlepod.


End file.
